Portraits
by Sache8
Summary: She was like a Patronus.  Pale, airy, and impervious to despair.  DTLL


**PORTRAITS**

by Sache8

_She was like a Patronus._

The thought flitted through Dean's mind while he was sitting at the kitchen table, a piece of charcoal in one hand and some scrap paper spread out before him. Across from him, Luna Lovegood was helping Fleur shell peas, chattering away about the effects of drought on the bowtruckle population, and he was sketching a picture of her.

He used long, broad strokes for the portrait. He wasn't sure there was any other approach that would properly capture her, and he could tell that the end result would look rather like something out of a fairy tale.

It was strange; he'd never given her any particular regard during all those DA lessons in fifth year. But during the past week spent at Ron's brother's house, she'd come to mean something infinitely special. Dean had spent weeks on the run, sleeping where he could, jumping at shadows, trying so hard to resist the temptation to return home. After that he'd endured the loss of two new friends, good men he'd known for far too brief a time. It wasn't long after Ted and Dirk had died that Dean and Griphook were finally captured, and it was the loneliness far more than the fear that had gripped his heart in the darkness. He was going to die alone.

Then, a miracle. Harry had come. Harry, Ron, and Hermione, and then there was Luna, and then suddenly they were all here, safe and sound. Five members of Dumbledore's Army, alive and whole, and ready to carry on. But of course Harry, Ron, and Hermione had always been something unto themselves, so Dean was left with Looney Lovegood for company. He welcomed her as a man parched with thirst welcomed cold, clear water in a desert.

"That's very nice."

Dean gave a start. Fleur was gone – somehow he'd missed her leaving the room - and Luna's attention was now fixed on his sketch. He felt heat rising on his neck. It was one thing to draw a picture of a pretty girl. It was quite another to be caught doing it. And yes, he thought, she was pretty, in her own wide-eyed way.

Luna was still looking between Dean and the sketch. Her delighted smile was so bright and unassuming that it dispelled his embarrassment like the sun on an early morning fog. "I didn't know you liked to draw," she said, "but I suppose since you're a boy, a Gryffindor, and a seventh year, it's not so terribly surprising."

Dean laughed. "Good point."

"Can I try?"

"Try?" he echoed.

Abandoning the peas, she got up from her chair and came around the table. There she settled cross-legged in the seat next to his and reached for her own little nib of charcoal and piece of paper. She cocked her head to one side and stared at his face for several long moments, then began to draw.

Dean kept an eye on her small hands as they moved over the paper. He'd had no idea she could draw, either. There was no guesswork in her technique. Her lines were small, steady, and precise. Within a minute Dean was looking at a very familiar silhouette on the page, and shortly thereafter a very familiar nose, and then two dark eyes under two dark eyebrows. On and on she went, until finally she turned the completed portrait slightly so that he was looking at it straight on. There were almost no smudges. But for the lack of color, Dean could have been looking in a mirror.

"It's great," he said. "You've got a lot of talent."

"Thank you," she said simply. "It was fun, but I like your drawing better." She looked at the sketch of herself and cocked her head again in that absentminded way. "I like how it moves," she added.

Dean was surprised and pleased by this observation, because he hadn't yet touched the sketch with magic, and hadn't even decided if he wanted to. He remembered his first year at Hogwarts, how fun it was to discover he could make his drawings spring to life. For a long time he'd disregarded the kind of art he'd left behind in the Muggle world, but recent times had begun to restore his appreciation for it.

"You can have it, if you like," he offered. Even as he spoke the words, he was surprised. He didn't usually volunteer his work; he considered it a very private thing. Then again, it didn't usually have that many admirers.

"Really?" she asked, looking up at him with excitement in her wide blue eyes.

"Yeah, sure," he said. "Only I need to finish it first. It's not quite there yet."

"All right." Luna turned her head as Fleur came back into the kitchen with another basketful of peas. "I'll just go sit over there again," she said, with an air as if she was aiding a great cause, and he had an impulse to grin. When she'd reclaimed her previous seat, she checked to make sure Dean was resuming his work before returning to her own.

It didn't take long to finish the sketch, and he was more than usually pleased with the end result. A small part of him regretted having promised it away, but he knew that it wouldn't have turned out so good if she hadn't wanted it so much. He blew the loose charcoal off the surface of the finished portrait, wishing he had his wand. Ordinarily, he'd cast a charm to prevent it smudging or fading. After gathering up the drawing supplies, he folded the sketch in half and passed it to Luna on his way out the room. When he reached the doorway, he couldn't resist turning around to catch a glimpse of her reaction, and his smile was a small, gratified echo of hers. He wondered, as he continued out the door, if Patronuses ever _did _take the form of people.

* * *

_Pale, airy, and impervious to despair..._

"Come on, Luna."

At the sound of her name, Luna blinked out of her reverie and turned toward it. She'd been waiting to see if Harry had anything else to say. Dean was holding out a hand expectantly, waiting on her, and everyone around them was beginning to make their way out of the Room of Requirement. Not much thinking about it, she took the hand.

Something new and odd happened when she did. A strange, hot quiver exactly in the middle of her body, and a tiny shiver all over that followed. It passed very quickly, but made Luna feel excited. As she and Dean headed up the stairs toward the exit, she considered possible explanations for this sensation.

"Be careful, Dean," she advised, glancing up at the corners of the stairwell. "There may be Hooded Splorfangs hiding in here." The presence of Splorfangs could very easily account for her lightheaded, excitable symptoms. "They cause severe dizziness, and they like to hide in dry, closed spaces."

"But how could they be here, Luna?" he asked, and threw a quick, knowing grin over his shoulder at her. "We're still in the Room of Requirement. I don't think it would have included Hooded Splorfangs unless we needed them. Would they be useful in fighting Voldemort?"

"Hmmn," she thought aloud, then admitted, "no, not really. I suppose you're right." The fluttery sensation had passed through her stomach again when Dean had smiled, and Luna next wondered if it was because of him. It was quite nice to have a boy smile at you, and take your hand, and be your friend. Of course, she already had friends in Harry, Ron, and Neville, but not with stomach-fluttering involved.

She thought about when Dean had been going out with Ginny. Ginny had complained Dean was too fussy and protective, but Luna wondered if Ginny understood how much Dean loved and missed his little brothers and sisters. Being protective was something he couldn't help. Besides, Luna was not Ginny. She didn't mind being fussed over a bit.

She continued to think on the matter as she, Dean, and Seamus helped Madame Pomfrey to get the little Gryffindors and Hufflepuffs, last in line to evacuate, down to the Room of Requirement and safely out of Hogwarts. Dean was very sweet and patient with the children, and kept talking to them to take their minds off their fear, sometimes even making them smile and laugh a little bit. Luna helped him tell the story of their escape from the Malfoys' house to a group of second-year Gryffindors as they walked through the hallway. They were all quite impressed.

There were some things you couldn't share without becoming friends, and living through a dangerous escape of a Death Eater stronghold was one of them. Some girls might even consider that romantic. Luna had never really thought about it before, but it did feel good to have a nice boy take your hand and smile at you. Luna was finally forced to conclude that she couldn't blame anything on Hooded Splorfangs. Not this time, anyway.

They were on their way back to the Great Hall when Dean muttered, "I wish I had a wand." He was starting to look worried.

Seamus turned to look at him in amazement. "You don't have a wand?" he asked.

"It was taken by the Snatchers," Luna supplied.

"I should have stolen one from a Slytherin," Dean added regretfully. "Then they could have done us some good." Luna laughed.

Seamus frowned at her, and then back at Dean. "You came here to fight and you don't have a wand? We need to fix that, mate, and fast."

"Do you have any suggestions?" Dean retorted.

Seamus opened his mouth, but whatever he planned on saying next went unsaid, as Luna said, quite calmly, "You can borrow my wand, Dean." Both boys stared at her for a minute and by way of response she offered a serene smile.

"Thanks Luna, but I don't think that's really going to solve the problem."

"Yes it will. It's a very good wand. It should be enough."

"That's not what I mean. I can't take your wand. Then what would you use to fight?"

"Oh, I don't mean for keeps," Luna said. "I'd like it back, of course, but you can have it long enough to fight a Death Eater and take his. Or hers," she added thoughtfully. "I would do it for you except a conquered wand will work better if you earn it for yourself. Mr. Ollivander told me all about it."

Dean looked bewilderedly at Seamus, who shrugged. "Sounds like as good a plan as we're like to come up with," he said. "I'll help you fight of course." Seamus looked at Luna, who nodded her approval.

Dean was frowning at the floor. It was a very long time before he said. "Fine. We'll do it." He looked at Luna. "But you need to hide until I can get you your wand back. Agreed?"

She smiled, pleased at his concern. "I promise." She reached out her wand and Dean took it slowly. Their fingers brushed a little and Luna's stomach jumped again. Definitely not Splorfangs. "And," he added, catching her eye as a corner of his mouth turned up. "Thanks."

"What are friends for?" she replied, beaming.

* * *

_Willowy lines. Wide, starry eyes…_

Dean was passing Fortescue's Ice Cream parlor, newly restored and open for business again, when he noticed Luna. It was kind of hard to miss her, really. The sun glared so strongly off her white-blond hair that it required additional squinting. She must be roasting, he thought, with her hair all loose and down her back like that, but if she felt any discomfort she certainly wasn't showing it.

She was sitting alone, swinging her feet below her chair, her attention consumed by an open book on the table in front of her. Although she was slowly and mechanically taking bites of her sundae, she didn't seem to notice that it was beginning to look more like soup than like ice cream. Her eyes never left the pages. When Dean stopped by her table and said her name, he thoroughly expected her to jump. Instead, she merely looked up and blinked as a smile spread slowly across her face. "Hello, Dean!" she said.

"I didn't surprise you?" he asked.

"Oh, you did," she replied. "It's quite a wonderful surprise. I didn't expect to see you here at all today."

Dean chuckled, shaking his head. "Can I sit down?"

"That would be lovely."

He did so, marveling at how the encounter was already lifting his spirits. His morning's efforts had not been fruitful, leaving him in something of a morose temper. "So what brings you to Diagon Alley?" he asked.

Luna marked the place in her book, which he now noted was a textbook, and showed him the cover. It was a brand new copy of _Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them_. "Fifty-_ninth _edition?" he asked, squinting at the subtitle.

"Mmmn," said Luna. "Just came out a few weeks ago. I picked it up before I got here. And the _Standard Book of Spells_ for seventh years."

Abruptly, it dawned on Dean that Luna would be going back to Hogwarts this fall with Ginny. The events which had forged his friendship with Luna seemed to make such things as school years of no account. "So you're keeping up with Care of Magical Creatures, I take it?" he asked.

"Oh, yes. If I score high enough on the N.E.W.T., the Ministry will grant me a license for unrestricted travel through magical creature reserves. I would like to find a Crumple-Horned Snorkack, possibly study and document its migration patterns, which, as you know, are highly complex. What are you doing here today, Dean?"

Dean was grateful that she did not ask him to offer an opinion on Crumple-Horned Snorkack migration patterns, but her question called to mind his prior malaise. "Oh," he said, trying to shrug it off, "I was just looking around for some work, you know? Trying to see if I could earn enough to find my own place. It's a bit crowded at home. And," he added with a sigh, "as much as I love them all, it's really lonely being the only wizard among Muggles sometimes."

Since war's end, Dean had been spending most of his time with his family, and trying to come to terms with the sudden, thoroughly unexpected, gaping hole before him that was the rest of his life. He'd never really given much thought as to what he was going to do after Hogwarts. Perhaps on some level he figured he'd work it out during his last year of school, but of course his seventh year had been stolen away.

Luna gave a very serious nod. "I can see that. Mr. Ollivander is letting me harvest wand wood for him. Perhaps you could ask him if you might do the same."

"Wand wood?" Dean echoed.

"Yes," she said, and reached down by her feet. A moment later, she hoisted a rucksack onto the tabletop. The rucksack was brimming with thick, knobbly twigs from a dozen different trees, and caused a small cascade of bark and dust to come showering onto the remains of Luna's sundae. She blinked down at the treat as if surprised to see it there. "I'm going there next. Mr. Ollivander only likes wands whose trees are guarded by bowtruckles. They're usually safe from Muggles and almost never diseased. But he's getting older, you know, and since his capture by the Death Eaters he's not strong enough to go out hunting on his own anymore. Someone needs to be able to handle the bowtruckles. With my dad still in St. Mungo's, _The Quibbler_ isn't back in print yet, so I needed some money to buy new schoolbooks."

"Luna," said Dean, a disturbing thought passing through his mind, "where are you staying? Didn't Harry say that your house was destroyed?"

"Partly destroyed," she confirmed. "I've been staying with Ginny. My house isn't very far from the Burrow, you know."

Dean pondered this information for a moment, trying to decide on something tactful and non-ridiculous to say, when Luna said, "Dean, may I ask you a question?"

"Fire away."

"Why don't you go back to Hogwarts? Surely you've heard about Professor McGonagall's invitation."

There was that. Professor McGonagall had issued a blanket invitation to every Hogwarts student who had been forced to miss all or part of the school year due to Voldemort's policies and persecution to retake the missing year, and the seventh years had been included. He'd known for a fact Hermione Granger was going back to complete her missing year. A smile touched the corners of his mouth. Undoubtedly this news had been to Hermione the equivalent of seventeen Christmases or so.

But Dean's choice on the matter was less clear. Seamus, who had plenty to do helping his mother as they rebuilt their lives, was not returning. Dean had hardly seen his best friend since the summer had begun. He knew too that Harry and Ron weren't going back, Ron being thoroughly and happily employed at Weasley's Wizard Wheezes, and Harry being pretty much indispensable to the new Minister of Magic. Hogwarts wouldn't seem like Hogwarts without the Gryffindors he'd grown up with. He'd probably feel old and awkward and ridiculous.

"I'm not sure," he confessed to Luna. "I've thought about it. What about you? You're going straight on to seventh year?"

"Mmmn, yes. Sixth year really isn't all that important to get back," she said. "Not with what I want to do."

"What would you do if you were me?" he asked.

"Oh, I'd go back!" she exclaimed, as if this was the most obvious thing in the world. "Of course I'd go back. I think you should. Everyone should finish school."

Dean chuckled. "But of course, you're a Ravenclaw."

Luna looked faintly pleased with herself. "Thank you," she said, which only made him chuckle harder. Then she added, "and you're a Gryffindor. I don't think you should let a one year age gap between you and the other seventh years keep you from going back."

Dean stared at her, amazed, wondering how on earth she'd managed to find the heart of the matter so quickly. Once again he pondered the possibility, this time with more real consideration than he'd given it of late. After all, why not? Didn't he just admit to himself he'd always figured on having his last year of school to help him decide what to do when it was over? And it wasn't like he wouldn't have friends. He still didn't know whether or not Neville was going back, but if Dean had Mrs. Longbottom pegged correctly he was willing to bet he would have at least one of his Sorting class with him. Then there might be Lavender, Parvati. For certain there'd be Ginny and… Luna.

"Luna?" he asked, blurting her name more quickly than he'd intended.

"Yes, Dean?"

"There's a Quidditch match tonight. Puddlemere United versus the Applebee Arrows. Do you think you'd want to go? Together? On me," he added hastily.

Luna's eyes widened in horrified shock. "Oh!" she exclaimed. "I couldn't!"

His giddiness popped as quickly as it had inflated. "Why not?" he asked.

"Because it's a well-known fact that the Applebee Arrows have secretly reinstituted the practice of hunting the Snidget during their matches as opposed to a snitch. I couldn't possibly support such a thing by attending one of their matches." Yet there was a look on her face that told him most of her wanted very much to say yes.

Dean pondered the problem for a moment. "Do you have a pair of omnioculars?" he asked.

"Of course, they're very helpful for—"

"Great!" he said. "If you bring them to the match, we'll do our very best to make sure there are absolutely no Golden Snidgets anywhere on the pitch. If we find proof, I promise you I will go to the Department of Magical Games and Sports myself first thing in the morning to file a complaint."

Still looking mildly distressed, Luna considered this proposal a good long while before her face relaxed a bit and she gave a tentative smile. "I suppose that would be all right," she conceded. "But we have to hurry. If we need to go get my omnioculars first then I'd best get these twigs to Mr. Ollivander straightaway."

_

* * *

_

_Someone's soul mate..._

The final week of August was drawing to a close when the staff at St. Mungo's finally approved the release of Xenophilius Lovegood.

"We have a surprise for you, Daddy," Luna said as the Muggle car Dean was driving began its approach of the last hill before the house would be in sight. "You have to close your eyes." Dean had driven the car all the way from London. Her father was still weak, and not yet approved to travel by any means of magical transportation.

"But Luna, my love—"

"Please, Daddy. Close your eyes."

"Oh, very well."

From the front seat, Dean threw a brief smile back at her. Through the windshield beyond him, Luna could just see the top of the newly-repaired house peeking over the hills. She glanced back at her father to make sure his eyes were tightly shut. He was humming softly to himself.

When they reached the car, Dean parked it by the front gate, then came around to the back to help her get her father out of the backseat. They took him carefully by the arms and after Dean closed the car door behind them, they began guiding him up the lane.

"I smell the gurdyroots!" her father exclaimed, his eyes springing open in excitement. "They smell quite extraor—"

"Daddy!" Luna cried. "Your eyes!"

"Oh, yes, of course. My apologies, my dear." He squeezed them shut again with exaggerated effort.

It took some doing to guide him through the kitchen and up the spiral staircase to the second floor, where they paused on the landing. Luna looked about her and gave a very pleased smile. Everything was ready. "Okay," she said quietly, "now you can open them."

Xenophilius was quick to comply. A fraction of a second after he did, the lights burst to life and at least dozen voices cried, "Surprise!"

"Sweet Merlin, bless me!" Xenophilius cried, clutching his chest in shock. For a brief moment, Luna wondered if this had been a bad idea. But then her father smiled.

Gathered about the room, which smelled of freshly cut wood, new paint, and plaster, were most of the Weasleys, Harry Potter, Hermione Granger, Neville Longbottom, a few of her father's friends from his horticultural societies, and long time contributors to _The Quibbler_. There was also Seamus, at Dean's invitation, clapping hesitantly and looking a bit uncertain as to why he'd been invited. Luna supposed it would have been very unlikely had it not been for Dean, but she was glad. Seamus was a very nice person to have as a friend too.

"Mr. Lovegood," said Harry, who was standing near the front of the group. "We would like to present, for your continued professional pleasure, and for the further enlightening of the wizarding world in all things otherwise and tragically overlooked in newsprint," here he paused and grinned over at Ron, "a brand new printing press!" The small crowd parted to reveal the machine, small, bright, and clean, oiled, and fully stocked with paper and ink.

Nothing could have made Luna happier than her father's reaction. He circled the room, flabbergasted, shaking everyone's hand with vigor, at a loss for words most of the time, which was a very rare thing for her father. It was some time later before Mrs. Weasley began feeding everyone and things calmed down. Finally, Luna was able to talk to her father and Harry together.

"This is just amazing," her father said, looking about the room. "You'd never know there had been an accident!"

"Harry did everything, Daddy!" Luna said happily. "He got us all together to rebuild the house, and he bought the new press. He felt very badly that our house got blown apart on his account."

A troubled expression passed over her father's face. "But it wasn't your fault," he told Harry. "It was mine. I—"

"Sir," said Harry, raising his glass of pumpkin juice. "I don't hold anything against you, believe me. If Luna was my daughter," he said, looking over at Luna with a smile, "I think I would have done the same."

"That is a very kind thing to say, Harry," she said after her father had moved on to gush to the next person, who happened to be a very overwhelmed-looking Hermione.

"Luna," said Harry quietly so no one else could hear, "you're one of the best people I've ever known."

The party was a lot of fun. Luna talked with everyone who came, and Dean gave her father a picture he'd made of a Crumple-horned Snorkack based on Luna's careful descriptions. Her father, who'd been a bit aloof with Dean after Luna had told him Dean was her boyfriend, seemed to forget this offense in a heartbeat, so impressed was he by this gift. He asked Dean's permission to use it in the first new edition of _The Quibbler_ and could barely take his eyes off it the rest of the night.

Finally, late into the evening, everyone began Disapparating home, until it was just Luna, her father, and Dean. After Luna helped her exhausted father into bed, she found Dean still sitting on the couch, flipping through his sketchbook. He smiled at her as she descended the staircase. "Want to take a walk?"

They left the house and wandered down towards the stream. It was a peaceful night, and Luna slipped her fingers through Dean's.

"I think that went well," he commented as they made their slow way towards the quietly burbling water.

"Yes, I was quite pleased. It made my father so happy. I'm relieved."

"Why, what were you worried about?"

"I wasn't sure if he'd be ready for me to go back to school so soon. I didn't think it would take so long for him to come home from the hospital."

"It was hard, what he went through, being tortured like that," Dean said, squeezing her hand comfortingly. "But you're right. Since I met him I haven't seen him so energized. He'll be fine. Besides, Mrs. Weasley said she'd look in on him now and again."

"I can't wait to go back to Hogwarts," Luna said excitedly. "What about you?"

"Yeah, me too. It's really weird, though, having first day of school jitters when by all accounts I should have been done by now. Makes it feel special. Kind of like Christmas."

"Shall I go get the mistletoe?" Luna teased. She made to start back up the hill toward the front garden.

Dean caught her hand more tightly and pulled her back. "Who needs mistletoe?" he said softly.

He didn't actually kiss her very often, but Luna liked it when he did. She'd never been kissed by anyone before Dean, and it made her insides feel like she'd been pricked by a Billywig. After a few soft kisses he pulled away and put an arm around her shoulders. She sighed happily and leaned against him.

"Thank you for all you did to help," she said.

"Hey, what are friends for?" he said lightly. She could hear the smile in his voice. After another moment, he pulled reluctantly away. "I should get going, though," he said. "I've still got to get my school stuff. Nothing like the last minute, eh? I'll be by in the morning to pick up the car. Need to take it back to London tomorrow."

"Okay. But maybe you should park it further away from the garden? The nargles are likely to nest in the tires otherwise. They're quite fond of rubber."

"Along with everything else," Dean muttered. He threw a crooked grin in her direction. "Okay, I'll park it at the end of the lane."

"Yes, that will be much better," she said. "Good night, Dean. And thank you again."

"Good night, Luna. I'll see you on the train."

* * *

_Words that meant forever…_

The Great Hall was festooned with Christmas decorations. Thinking on his previous Christmas, Dean wasn't sure he'd ever seen such a beautiful sight. It was the last day of classes before the Christmas holidays, and the mail had just arrived, including Dean's latest complimentary edition of _The Quibbler_. He flipped through it, wondering if any of his latest drawings were inside. Sure enough, a roaring rendition of what Dean supposed a heliopath might look like took up much of the center spread, complimented by an article describing the supposed havoc the creatures had been wreaking in Central America.

"Hey, that one's really cool, Dean," said Neville appreciatively, glancing over from his usual stack of fan mail. After the first few weeks of school, the influx of letters from people who admired Neville's slaughter of the Dark Lord's pet snake had mostly abated, but now that Christmas was near, every single one of them seemed to need to send a Christmas card too.

"Thanks," said Dean, pleased. He'd had a lot of fun with the heliopath.

"I still can't believe you're going along with that," said Hermione from across the table. There was a textbook open in front of her; she had a last-minute Arithmancy exam later in the day. From the expression on her face, it was clear she didn't think much of _The Quibbler_ now that it had returned to its usual form. "You're contributing to the utter ridiculousness of—"

"Oh, relax, Hermione, it's not like he's getting paid," said Ginny distractedly, who was looking through her own letters and cards. One in particular seemed to catch her eye, and judging by the way her face turned pink with pleasure, Dean was willing to bet he knew who'd written it. "Excuse me," she said, and grabbing a piece of toast from a nearby pile, she scooped up the rest of her mail and headed out the door.

"I told you, Hermione," said Dean patiently as he spooned a few more eggs onto his plate, "it's great exposure. If I can build up a big enough portfolio and a history of being in print—"

"—if you call that being in print," Hermione muttered. "But yeah, okay, fine." With a sigh, she cast a final regretful eye upon _The Quibbler _and returned her attention to her Arithmancy book.

"Oh, look, here comes Luna," said Neville, smiling at Dean. Dean turned around. There indeed was Luna, wandering over to the Gryffindor table with a letter clutched in her hand and an excited look on her face. She had piled her hair into a huge mass on her head and interlaced it with about a dozen different colors of tinsel. With each day that brought them closer to Christmas, she'd been increasingly decorated. Combined with her Christmas bauble earrings and candy cane striped scarf, Dean wouldn't deny she actually looked pretty hilarious, but his amusement was an admiring kind. He shot a quick, dirty look at a fourth year who snickered as Luna settled herself in Ginny's abandoned place.

"Good morning, everyone," she said brightly. "I see Ginny got another letter from Harry."

"How did you know that?" asked Neville.

"As if it wasn't obvious by the look on her face the whole way out of here." Dean said.

"Exactly," said Luna with a smile. "She's very happy with Harry." Her eye was briefly drawn to the magazine beside Dean's elbow before she turned her attention fully to him. "Oh, good, you got yours! I got mine too. Daddy's so pleased with the heliopath picture."

"What's that you've got there, Luna?" he asked her, nodding at the letter she was still holding.

"Oh! I've just received this and I wanted to show you straightaway. I'm very excited. I was hoping I'd hear back before our holiday." She passed the letter over.

"_Afrikana Magical Tours_'," Dean read at the top. "What's that?"

"They contract safaris and other magical excursions throughout Africa and India," said Luna, her voice as high and bright with excitement as he'd ever heard it. "I wrote them a few weeks ago to tell them about my studies, and they say if I get as many N.E.W.T.s as I'm expecting, they'll probably have a job for me after Hogwarts."

Dean's quick skim of the letter confirmed her words, and a funny, hollow sort of feeling filled his stomach. "In Africa?" he asked.

"Oh, yes. I'd get to lead expeditions or maybe do survey work," she said happily. "I would have my own little hut to sleep in when I was at headquarters. Doesn't it sound like fun?"

"It does," Dean replied automatically, still staring at the letter dumbly.

"That sounds amazing, Luna," Neville agreed, eyeing the letter impressively.

"Well, I just wanted to show you," Luna said, "but now I should leave for class or I'll be late." She got up from the table and Dean passed the letter back to her. "I'll see you at lunch, Dean."

"What? Oh, right. See you, Luna."

Dean watched her go, waiting until she'd collected her bag from the Ravenclaw table and left the Great Hall, her gait chipper the entire way. Then he mumbled his leave to Hermione and Neville and made his own exit, deep in thought.

It hadn't really hit him until now exactly how serious Luna was about living a life abroad after Hogwarts. It wasn't that he hadn't believed her, he just hadn't realized how instantaneous she desired the transfer to be. It made him feel sad.

He examined this feeling carefully as he headed upstairs towards Transfiguration. It wasn't exactly the reaction he would have expected. It seemed like resentment or jealousy would have been more in character. After all, she was his girlfriend. But despite months of using that termit still didn't feel like it really applied to Luna. For starters, the word was far too commonplace. Luna didn't seem like she'd ever be anyone's 'girlfriend'. Someone's soul mate, true love, or maybe even wife - those were words for her. They were words that meant connection and intimacy.

Dean arrived at the Transfiguration classroom only to see it still closed. He'd come a bit too early. With a sigh, he put his bag on the floor and sat down by the door to wait. Truth be told, he'd known almost from the start that he and Luna wouldn't be always and forever. The effect she had on him, which he'd mistaken for attraction, had merely been the balm of friendship that had bridged a troubling time. He cared a lot about her – he always would – but to pretend to understand her on that special of a level would be pretty conceited.

The question was what did he do about it? The gentlemanly thing would be to admit all this sooner rather than later. The real problem was that he had no idea how it would make her feel. As with everything, Luna seemed to perceive the idea of dating the way she perceived everything else – in her own special, unfathomable way. Dean never knew quite what to make of it. He knew she enjoyed their time together. She always smiled brightly and kind of glowed when he kissed her, and she loved to hold his hand.

But there were other times when he wondered if she even remembered they were dating at all. On a day-to-day basis she barely treated him any different than she had before he'd asked her out. She certainly wasn't the jealous type. At times he would spend the better part of an hour arguing quidditch with Ginny and Luna would sit by, lost in her own little world, utterly unconcerned. It was baffling to say the least. He half-suspected if he broke it off she'd just blink and smile and say it sounded like a smart idea.

Still, that wasn't a gamble he ought to take. He'd have to think what to do, how to be considerate of her feelings, and that was a pickle.

* * *

_Words that did not mean Dean Thomas._

It was early June, and the Hogwarts Express gently chugged away from the castle towards London. Luna craned her neck to get one last glimpse of Ravenclaw tower before it disappeared behind the mountains. She felt a little bit sad, and also a little bit curious, wondering when it was she'd next see her beloved school.

Once Hogwarts was out of sight, she leaned back and returned her attention to the inside of the cabin and smiled, thinking back to her first journey on this train. She'd spent it in the furthest corner of her compartment, quickly dismissed and ignored by the other new girls. Luna knew now that most people considered her to be a little bit odd, but she hadn't understood that when she was eleven, so used to being the apple of her father's eye. These recent years, with the addition of so many new and dear friends, were ones she would always treasure.

Hermione was fidgeting, trying to decide between reading a book or writing a letter. Ginny was playing Exploding Snap with Neville, who was getting soundly beaten and laughing heartily about it, and Dean was sitting across from Luna, watching her with a curious look.

"Are you all right, Dean?" she asked. He'd been very quiet the last week or so, and she could tell he was nervous about something.

"Fine," he said with a smile, but she knew it wasn't a genuine one. Still, with so many people in the compartment, she decided not to ask him about it.

Her suspicions were proved correct later in the afternoon. Ginny had gone to say goodbye to some friends on another part of the train, and Neville was asleep, his head against the seat behind him, his mouth slightly open. He was snoring a little bit. Hermione expressed a wish to take a walk. As soon as she'd slid the door to the compartment shut, Dean fidgeted and looked cautiously over at Neville.

"I think he's pretty tired. You can talk if you want," Luna said. "Is this about us not going out anymore?"

Dean stared at her, mouth gaping. "I—" he started. "How did— I mean, I didn't—"

Luna smiled kindly at him. "It's all right, Dean. I understand. I knew it was bothering you for a while."

"You did?" He looked very embarrassed. "Why didn't you say anything?"

"I don't know," she admitted. "Part of me really didn't want to. I like having a boyfriend. I was never the kind of girl who had boyfriends. It was nice."

"I'm sorry," he said. He looked thoroughly miserable.

She gave him a curious expression. "Why should you be?"

"I feel like I let you down somehow, or—"

"Oh, I didn't expect it would last for very long," she assured him. "Not if I'm going so far away like I hope to. That wouldn't be very fair to you at all, would it? Especially after you get that great new job." Dean had gotten a job as an illustrator for the Little Magical Press, which published children's books from their headquarters in Diagon Alley. Luna was very happy for him.

"Oh, that reminds me!" Dean said excitedly. "I got you something with my first advance. A going-away present." He reached down for his bag and began sorting through it.

"But I haven't got the job yet," she pointed out. They wouldn't be getting the results of their N.E.W.T.s until the end of the summer, and Luna was looking forward to spending the holiday with her father and her friends. She was still hoping to get the job with the tourist agency in Africa, but in the meantime she'd be helping Mr. Ollivander again in his shop.

"Not yet, but you will. I know you will," he said.

"And I thought we weren't going out anymore," Luna added, though with very little conviction.

"So?" he said, pulling a small package out of the bag. It was wrapped in brown paper. He handed it to her with a smile. "I would have wrapped it better, but it only just arrived last night. Finally," he added with a mutter. "I was afraid it would be too late."

Luna opened it. It was a camera. "It's spelled to repel water, scratching, and dust contamination," Dean said. "Latest model. I figure you'll be wanting a good one."

"This is very special, Dean," Luna said, turning it over and over in amazement. "I can't begin to thank you."

"Well, you could start by owling me pictures of all the cool magical creatures you find on your adventures," he said. "I'll sketch every single one for you. I owe you big time, you and your dad both. I wouldn't have gotten this job without your help."

Impulsively, Luna got up, crossed the train compartment to sit next to him, and gave him a quick kiss on the cheek. "I promise," she said, and hugged him around his neck.

"I'm going to miss you, Luna," he said.

"I'll miss you too."

* * *

That night, after an enjoyable dinner with her father, Luna got out her paints. After the house had been rebuilt, she'd never gotten the chance to finish putting her bedroom to rights. There hadn't been enough time before she'd returned to Hogwarts, and both Christmas and Easter breaks had been too full of other comings and goings to worry about it. But she missed her old ceiling and she was determined to have it finished before she went away again. 

Through the night she worked, her brush moving carefully back and forth, and she thought about friendship. She recreated the first five portraits exactly the same as they'd been before, and when she was finished with them she added Dean Thomas.

**_The End_**

* * *

**A/N**: According to JKR's interview on i The Today Show /i , Ron eventually goes to work with Harry in the Auror department, but in the Leaky Cauldron online chat she said he went to work for WWW right out of school. Also, i Deathly Hallows /i implies that Dean only has sister's, but JKR's official site says "several half brothers and sisters." I went with 'brothers and sisters' mostly because I liked the way it sounded better. Plus he seems like someone who needs at least one kid brother.

I tried to stay within the boundaries of all the canon I could find, including referencing the DH events of this story very closely, but I may have missed something. If anyone spies any contradictions, feel free to point them out. Depending on what they are, I may adjust the story accordingly.

Some things are definitely my own speculation: Mr. Lovegood's torture at the hands of the Death Eaters (and prolonged stay in St. Mungo's) and Professor McGonagall's return-to-school invitation, for example.

Feedback is love!

-- Saché


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